Shattered Dreams
by Whistlewind Wolf
Summary: The day that changed everything was supposed to be a happy one. That day, my childhood died with all our hopes for the future. That day, we lost so much more than my father. Rated for character death.


Shattered Dreams

"_Life's spark shines on, once freed from its fleshly shroud. Dreams, meanwhile, shatter in a flash."_

* * *

That day started out like any other. My mother gently shook me and Prim awake, kissing both of us on our foreheads. At the breakfast table, she reminded us, "Don't forget what today is, girls." As if we needed reminding. I could never forget our dad's birthday. Even Prim, young as she was, memorized our birthdays before our own house number.

When our father came into the room, Prim bounded into his open arms squealing, "Happy birthday, daddy!" He picked her up and spun her around as she giggled with glee, sweet and innocent. The loose coal dust flew off his miner's uniform, whirling around them as they twirled. After a few spins, he put her down and turned to me with an expectant gleam in his eyes, almost as if he was daring me to do the same as Prim.

_No,_ I thought. _I am a lady now. I have to act like a grownup._ Of course, that train of thought derailed when I took the first step toward him. I threw myself at him, hugged him tight around the neck and said, "Happy birthday dad!"

He put me down and said, "Thank you, girls." Then my mom came up behind him and draped her arms over him, smiling softly all the while. She kissed him on the cheek, and he turned around to give her a kiss full on the lips.

Prim cried out, "Mommy, daddy, gross!" I covered her eyes with one hand and my mouth with the other in an attempt to stifle my laughter. Pretty soon, Prim was giggling along with me, and so were our parents.

Our dad laughed, "You think that's funny? Come here, you!" and chased the two of us around the kitchen, saying something about a tickle monster. I guess that morning was the last time I remember being truly happy. After our impromptu game of "tickle tag," Prim and I had to go to school and dad had to go off to the mines. Before we left, he said, "I'll bring home a treat tonight, okay, girls? And Katniss, I'll bring you to the Hob tomorrow. That's a promise." He winked and whispered, "But don't tell your mother." I gave a huge grin in return. I loved going to the Hob with my father, even though I thought it was a bit scary back then.

Then he went to work, and we went to school. Everything was normal until lunchtime, when the sirens went off. Nobody was waiting to be dismissed; everyone just bolted. My heart dropped into my stomach as I ran to Prim's class, my braid flying out behind me. I still remember her, tiny at seven, very pale, but sitting straight up with her hands folded on her desk, waiting for me like I told her to. I promised I would get her if the alarms ever sounded. She sprang out of her seat, grabbed my coat sleeve, and we wove through the streams of people pouring out into the streets to pool at the main entrance of the mine. There we found our mother, clutching the hastily strung rope that acted as a barrier so hard, her knuckles were white. When I saw the smoke billowing out of the entrance, I whispered brokenly, "You promised…"

We held onto each other as the elevators screeched up and down, releasing blackened, coughing, dusty miners into the open light of day. With each group came cries of relief, relatives diving under the rope to lead off their husbands, wives, children, parents, siblings. We stood in the freezing air as the afternoon turned overcast and a light snow dusted those who were still waiting. Prim wailed beside me, and our mother tried to assure her that we'd be okay, that daddy would be coming up soon.

As day turned into night, fewer and fewer people came up with the elevators. Our father was never one of them. We waited for hours as the elevators continued going up and down, bringing up miners. While waiting, more snow fell and someone gave us blankets. I didn't want a blanket. I wanted my father. I wrapped my blanket around Prim, wishing that it would get rid of the worry as well as it did the cold. I remember being given something hot, but I didn't drink it. The knot in my stomach was so tight, I felt as though I would vomit if I forced myself to drink. As the night wore on and the darkness became more pressing, the knot twisted in on itself, making the worry swallow me whole.

"Where are you?"

Just before dawn, the last elevator only brought up two men. Neither were my father. At that point, I was certain. The elevators stopped moving, and the only sounds that drifted through the night air were the wails of those who remained and the voices of others trying to comfort them. I knew before the mine captain asked to speak to my mother privately. I knew from the haunted look in her eyes, her broken spirit, that I was right. I knew before she knelt down before us and whispered the four words that shattered all our dreams for the future.

"Daddy's not coming home."

"…_But you promised…"_

* * *

(A/N: I guess I need to do a disclaimer right now. The opening quote belongs to Square Enix, and the Hunger Games is the work of Suzanne Collins. Nothing here is mine.

Okay, disclaimer time is over. Who the last line is addressed to is meant to be unclear. Whether it's to her father or to her mother will be left up to you. And I am still working on Defiance, so readers of that story, worry not. I just have lots of stuff to do with school.)


End file.
